


Shorts

by Ashenvale



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-29
Updated: 2015-11-30
Packaged: 2018-05-04 00:58:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5314049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ashenvale/pseuds/Ashenvale
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is where I'm going to dump all the drabbles, shorts, and half finished things and such I write. More to be added at a later date. Come visit me at eredria.tumblr.com. Send me a message and I'll love you forever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

In the beginning all he remembers are broken bits and pieces of his former life. But what he does is so strong that it seems like it happened yesterday not the decades ago they were. 

The taste of cheap liquor at the bar where he danced with a pretty girl whose name he never knew. Holding her close but thinking of him. The skinny boy in the raggedy clothes who stood off to the side his gaze quickly falling to the floor whenever he was caught staring. 

The feeling of the rush of wind on the roller coasters they rode again and again. 

The muggy heat of the heavy summer air as he finds him wandering the streets after the funeral. 

The stench of the close built tenements as that skinny little blond grabs his collar and pulls him into their first kiss. 

The tears in the other man's eyes when he pulls back suddenly looking terrified and slams the door behind him. Banging on it, shouting, neighbors yelling. 

The sick feeling in his stomach. 

The tightness in his chest. 

The feeling that everything he wanted but was too afraid to speak was over before it even started. 

Holding him all skin and bones in that two sizes too big suit as he sobbed, saying he was sorry over and over as if a simple kiss was some damnable sin he could never make right.  
"Come home with me, please, just one night. Don't do this alone. You're so goddamn stubborn." 

Every touch, every glance, every word. Those broken bits and pieces strung together by one singular feeling. One unmistakable ache in his chest that he feels even now. He loved him. He /loves/ him. 

It's there even in the darker ones. The long nights in the bitterness of the beginning of his war. Sleeping on the hard frozen ground. Laying on that padded slab for days repeating his name and number over and over his mind slipping further into the deep overwhelming grief that he will never see him again. Knowing his body will be discarded in some field, unmarked and unnoticed for the rest of time. While his parents are given nothing but a flag for an empty coffin and the man he longs for, the man he loves, is left never knowing what happened to him. 

And then seeing him there, tall and muscular, looking different than he knew before but just as beautiful and unmistakably the man he had left behind. 

"Bucky?" 

It was his name. It was the first crack in the mental armor. It was the gift he had given him as much as it was the curse. 

Because eventually the things he remembers aren't just of him. There are terrible things. 

They had made him a murderer. Fifty years of bodies and every one he remembers brings with it more and more. A seemingly endless string of violence and death. And with them the questions. Does he just not remember why he killed them? Did he ever even know? Or did they only put a gun in his hand and give him a target?  
But their faces, their maimed and lifeless bodies aren't the worst of it. Not even the horrible knowing that somewhere deep inside him he had enjoyed it. The trill of the chase. The praise that was given to him after each successful mission. 

No the worst part is that despite all it, despite the wretched thing they had made him, that boy who he held in his arms all those years ago somehow still loved him. 

Loved him so much he was willing to throw away his own life. Lay down his shield and take the punches just to make him remember. 

It makes him sick but he craves it. He tells himself he doesn't deserve it. He runs because he knows if he stays the other man will give up everything just for the chance to be near him again. 

Because that love, the complete devotion, is just as terrifying as it was when they were nineteen. 

And as he's gazing up at him now from that dirty floor the look in the other man's eyes scares him more than his warnings of the men who are coming for him. 

Because it means the same thing as it has always meant. I'll die for you, I'll kill for you, I'll become everything you never wanted me to be just to make sure you're safe.


	2. Chapter 2

The "safe" house was all rickety floor boards and windows broken or missing altogether. But Bucky had stayed there for a few weeks after the incident at the Triskelion, so that was where they headed.   
"You don't have to be here Sam." Steve said and he meant it. It would be better if he weren't. This wasn't Sam's fight. Bucky was his responsibility. Bucky had taken care of him when there was nobody else. And he knew it was dangerous and foolhardy and probably straight up suicidal. But he had lost him once and he would be dead before he lost him again.   
But Sam wouldn't hear it. "Someone has to make sure the two of you don't get yourselves killed. Which, by the way, doesn't mean I approve of this. There has to be a better way."   
"There isn't."   
"You're going up against the entire US Government. Fuck that, you're going up against /Iron Man/."   
"You think I don't realize that? They want to kill him. I won't let that happen. They're not taking him from me, Sam. Not again." 

\--------------------------------------- 

Bucky could have told him it was no use. Once Steve got something in his head there was no changing his mind. But he kept quiet, staring off into the distance. It didn't feel like his place to even speak to Sam. He had tried to kill him and here Sam was risking his life to save him. Just another thing to add to the suffocating guilt he felt.   
But Steve tended to inspire that in people. Bucky knew because he had been the first. Trapped with that ridiculous sincerity and willingness to sacrifice himself for what he felt was right. And once you were in, there was no getting out. You didn't have a choice. Steve made you love him.   
And when Sam sighed Bucky saw it in his eyes. He was just as trapped as Bucky had ever been.   
The drive out here is torturous. Every bit of him on high alert. Screaming at him to run, but he can't. As soon as he had seen that look in Steve's eyes he was done. Just as lost as he had been back then.   
Steve still loved him. After all he had done, all the people he killed, some of them Steve's friends. The weight of that love was crushing. He didn't deserve it. But he can't live without it. 

\--------------------------------------- 

Sometimes Sam wishes he had slept in that morning. Decided not to go running that day.   
Usually those times were when people are shooting at him. There were no bullets flying now but goddamn if it didn't feel like he was running face first into a fire fight.   
He had texted Natasha before they left to tell her he understood and that he was sorry. "They're tracking your phones. You should know better." was her only reply.   
He knew this was killing her. But she knew when it was a fight that couldn't be won. Sam wished he could do the same, leave Steve to his fate, but he just can't.   
This is too important.   
Whether the man in the backseat was innocent may have been up for interpretation but you can't just kill someone for something they had no choice in doing.   
Still he knew this was the wrong way. There had to be some other option. Because this was right here was tantamount to suicide. There was no way they could run forever. But he couldn't help himself. Underneath that stubbornness there was fear in Steve's voice. Desperation. He needed help.   
How could Sam just walk away from that?   
And so he stays.   
\--------------------------------------- 

All this is his fault. Every single bit of it. He should have jumped off the train. He could have gone back when the mission was over. How long had Bucky lay in the snow before they came to take him? He could have saved him. Bucky could have had a life, not this living hell.   
Instead he gave up hope. Sat down in that bombed out bar and let grief and vengeance take him. He's not giving up this time.   
Every person the Winter Soldier killed in DC that was his fault too. He could have stopped it. But he saw Bucky's face and he froze. Their blood is on his hands, every last one of them.   
Every person who dies now will be his fault as well. But he can live with that. If it means he can save Bucky nothing else matters.   
But if Sam gets hurt can he live with that? He tells himself he gave Sam a way out. That it's Sam's choice to be here. But does that really change anything?   
He knows he should be ashamed but he isn't. He can't feel anything but the singular need to bring Bucky home. To give him the life he missed. The love he needs.   
He can't leave him again. 

\--------------------------------------- 

"You're not going to win this one. The two of you need some time and I need some fresh air." Sam isn't giving up so Steve lets him take watch.   
Steve is grateful for it. Especially once Bucky starts pacing the room. It's like a switch flipped and suddenly the quiet stillness is gone and Bucky is like a caged animal.   
Steve sits on the bed and watches for a minute. "Buck. It's alright."   
"No. Not alright. We shouldn't have stopped. They're coming."   
"Bucky come here." He says it gently but the other man ignores it. Still pacing, eyes on the window but out of line of sight with it and Steve realizes he has been holding this in since they picked him up. Now the fear and the anxiety are loose and it's going to take him if he doesn't do something.   
Steve gets up and walks over, reaching out for him "Buck-"   
Quick as lightning he's met with a metal hand to his throat. Bucky's eyes are dark and his breath is quick but the grip is light. It's a warning.   
Steve takes a slow breath and starts, "Remember when we were kids and you mom would invite me over for dinner after school? She knew my mother worked late and we didn't always have enough for food. Your dad was a coffin-maker and it wasn't like people just stopped dying because there was a depression. Your family didn't have much, especially with four kids, but they shared what they could. And your mom would always send home a little for my mother. One night you were walking me home and some guy on the street tried to take the food from me. I told him it was for my mom but he wouldn't let go. Not until you punched him so hard you broke his nose . We took off running and didn't stop till we made it to my place." Steve can see the other man's breathing start to calm. "I tried to show you how grateful I was, but I never really told you. All the times you did that. All the times you kept me safe. It's my turn now Buck. Let me help you."   
The hand slips from his throat, and Steve holds him close. He whispers that everything will be alright even though he doesn't know that it will. He guides him over to the bed and lays down next to him. Head on his shoulder, hand over his heart, just like how they used to.   
"I won't let them take you."


End file.
